Harry Potter and the Death Eater's Strike
by pumayaton
Summary: After the war, Harry finds himself with permanent disability, but the danger of the Death Eaters is still lurking. They may prove more dangerous to Harry's dream of the future than Voldemort himself.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make money from this work of fanfiction.

* * *

A tall young man, covered in blood, made his way through the ruins of what was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. People seemed to part for him as he walked by, giving words of thanks, congratulations, and praise. The man didn't seem to notice at all. Instead, he kept his green eyes fixed firmly forward, his neck and jaw tight, as he strode through the halls at a slow pace, limping pace.

Eventually, Harry Potter came to a door, set a small ways from a pile of rubble that was once a statue, and murmured a word. When the door opened, he took one more step through, closed the door. He fell hard to the floor, promptly passing out.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Harry woke slowly, his head pounding, and when he put his palms to the floor, he noted that it was tacky in places with his own blood. He stood, and limped slowly over to the long mirror that hung in the prefect's bathroom above the sinks, and stared. He noted that he was very thin, and his cheekbones were protruding in a way that made him look sinister, and his eyes were surrounded by deep purple markings, as though he had not slept in a very long time. His face was covered in dirt, and dried blood, and so, turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water over his head, and watched as dull rust coloured water made its way down the drain. He knew the rest of him must be covered in muck as well, but as dizzy as he was, he knew a shower was out of the had hoped he could avoid it when he had left the Great Hall, he had felt well enough then, but he knew now that he had to go to the infirmary. He had hoped to simply slip away.

_Merlin, I can't let people see me like this._ _I'm covered in gore, I can barely move. She must hate me thoroughly by now._

As he tried to step away from the sink, he felt a pull in his chest, and nearly fell over from pain, as more blood began to drip from beneath his loose sweater. He pulled it slowly over his head, with great difficulty, and noted a gash, almost a foot long, across his chest. It cut diagonally over his heart in the shape of a lightning bolt. It was deep enough at the top that Harry's ribs could be seen, and in places where the blood had clotted, a deep purple surrounded the skin in that area. He gingerly wrapped the sweater's arms around himself, and bound his chest as best he could, before once again hobbling to the door, in great pain, and dizziness. One of his legs didn't seem to want to hold his weight, and actually felt quite numb. Through all of this, he remembered to check his pocket, and with his wand, and the blasted Elder wand still in their place, he opened the door, and went back out into the halls. As he walked, the walls seemed to be shifting in a way that made him nauseous.

In a moment of lucidity, Harry realized that he had no clue how long he had been passed out on the floor of the bathroom. As quiet as the halls were, and with all of the lamps burning low, he suspected that it was the small hours of the morning. He had been missing for less than 9 hours. Using the walls for support, he made his way back to the grand staircase that would lead him to the infirmary, passing not a soul on the way. When he got to his checkpoint, he found that climbing would not be possible in his current condition, so he would have to make do, with hoping someone was in the Great Hall, and awake. He could hear the murmur of voices as he neared the open doors slowly, and that the light from there was brighter, though spots of black had begun to float in his vision.

He pushed himself from the staircase banner.

_C'mon I didn't go through all of this just to die now._

He stumbled toward the door nearest him, and took the last few steps to the entrance, but just before he made himself visible to the people inside he stopped.

_They could all hate me. All this death, all this ruin, because of me. I should have been faster. Merlin, why wasn't I faster. Remus, Tonks, Fred. . . God! Please forgive me. Hell, if they hex me when I go in there, it'd kill me. I bet I won't be in pain any more though._

At the thought, he laughed and stepped forward, into the light, and he saw that heads around the room had snapped up to meet him, and with nothing left to support him, he fell to one knee, causing more blood to drip from his chest at the jolt. He realized that at this point, he didn't even feel pain any more, and a wry smile lit his face.

" Harry!"

The one person who he thought would hate him more that all of the others, ran towards him at an astonishing speed, red hair trailing like a kite behind her. He closed his eyes, waiting for her judgment, her hatred, as other footfalls sounded behind her. Whatever it was, he could take it, as long as he didn't have to see the hate in her face. But then, he felt his face pulled upwards by gentle hands, and as it was he opened his eyes to look upon brown ones surrounded by freckles, as she began to pepper his face with kisses.

"Where have you been? We were so worried!" She asked looking him over, his face still in her palms. Her touch was still gentle as he stared intently into her eyes.

"Miss Weasley, I think that is enough." The young woman stepped away, and as she did, Harry fell further to the floor, unable to keep himself upright. The sweater binding his chest came loose, and more blood fell.

"POMFREY!" McGonagall cried, rushing to his side, to keep him up. As she did, her robes swept the blood on the floor making it all the more apparent to onlookers it was there. It was so hard for to think!

"Oh Harry!" Molly Weasley ran towards his as well, while Ginny stepped opposite McGonnagall, to steady his other arm.

"Merlin, love! What happened?" Ginny's voice cracked as she slipped herself gently under his left arm to support him.

Ron and Hermione began calling his name as well, and Mr. Weasley rushed forward with a swath of bandages and a basket filled with glass vials of different colours and sizes.

Madam Pomfrey's voice broke through the shouts of those around him, "He needs a bed, quickly now! Don't jostle him! Slowly now! All right Harry, down you go!"

He felt himself lowered onto a cot near some wall, and he knew that someone was behind him holding him in a sort of reclined position. For some reason he was having trouble concentrating. It was as if things around him were fading in and out. Actually, he felt kind of drunk. Gentle hands once again grabbed his face, this time from behind, and he knew then that it was Ginny that held him this way. His head was tilted back as something was poured down his throat, and he immediately felt more alert, though the walls continued to dance around him.

_Why? She should want me dead. I got them all killed. "Should have been faster. Merlin, forgive me."_

"Shh, love! It's not, it's not your fault at all. We love you! You've done so well. Just hold on Harry, we'll get you through. Just hold on. I think he's delirious, he doesn't know what he's saying."

_I could "die happy" right now._

He felt hands smooth his matted, damp hair away from his forehead.

"You are not going to die on me yet Mr. Potter! Happy or otherwise! Oh god, professor, his head's bleeding too! From his scar. Merlin, you're burning up." The hands continued their assault on his hair, and he felt lips once again touch his forehead.

"His leg is shattered."

He didn't realize when he walked to the bathroom earlier in the night that he was so badly off. Adrenaline and anger and guilt had kept him running so far, but here, safe in Ginny's arms, all of that was fading away. His eyesight was blurring in and out again, although his hearing was fine, and he could think better than before thanks to whatever he was given minutes before. Someone was wiping something that stung across his chest and brow, but it was cool, and once again he felt his mind snap to, and he realized that he had been drawing breath rather raggedly before now.

"Mr. Potter!"

He opened his eyes again, but had trouble focusing on whose voice it was, from the many faces surrounding him.

"Harry!"

It was Madam Pomfrey's voice, and there was a look of great concern on her face. Professor McGonagall stood next to her, looking more bedraggled than he had ever seen her before, and she knelt next to him.

"Harry," her voice sounded softer than he had ever heard it, "How did this happen, boy? We need to know; it's not knitting together properly."

"What, Professor?" His throat felt like he had been eating gravel. He tried to speak with confidence.

_Maybe if they think "I'm not so bad off, they'll let me leave."_

"Oh, Harry dear, you aren't going anywhere!" Molly Weasley's voice was as terse as he had ever heard it.

"You're chest Mr. Potter! How did it happen?"

He thought about it for a moment. What had happened? Oh yeah, that.

"He killed me."

"What Harry? Who?"

He thought again, and closed his eyes.

"In the forest, Voldemort, he killed me. The curse."

Things were become clearer now, as he thought, and he felt Ginny's head press into the crook of his neck, as tears rolled down her cheeks onto his chest. The atmosphere was too tense.

"Did a bad job though, huh?" He laughed again, and more pain shot through him, but no one else did.

"He cast Avada Kedavra again? And you survived?" McGonagall's voice was now a whisper, and her face was closer to his than ever.

"No, Professor, I died, but I came back. I had a job to do." He felt a flare of alertness again, and sat up against Ginny's body a little more. He swept the room with his eyes, and noted that the only ones there in the Hall were the Weasley's, Hermione, Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey, and Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. He should tell them, "I was a horcrux."

At this, Flitwick closed his eyes and McGonagall gasped. Hermione spun into Ron and began sobbing all anew as he rubbed her back with a look of puzzlement on his face. Madam Pomfrey broke the stillness in the room by bustling forth with two new rags soaked in some sort of purple liquid and pressed one gently on the wound in his chest. He felt the narrow ends of the mark begin to knit together, and the sensation was not unpleasant. Ginny grabbed the other rag, and pressed it to his forehead, and he realized that the once small scar now extended down, transecting his right eyebrow.

He tilted his head back and towards her, and looked her in the eyes. He realized that he could move his arms, so he grabbed her wrist gently and pulled it down towards his mouth placing a soft kiss there on the inner part of her arm. His lips were so dry.

"I'm so sorry, Gin. So sorry. . . Fred. . ." His voice cracked as tears rolled unbidden down his cheeks. She shushed him and began wiping his head again.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault." She was crying too. He coughed, and felt part of his chest wound open again, and Madam Pomfrey tutted.

"Potter, you need to sleep now, or we'll never get you healed. I'm going to give you something now. Please rest."

He nodded against Ginny's chest and the nursed poured more liquid down his throat. It tasted like honeysuckle, and he immediately felt drowsy.

"Gin, I'm so, so sorry. . . I. . ." She was humming, and he couldn't keep his eyes open, although he fought the sensation. Then he remembered what he was trying to tell them earlier. "The pensieve in Dumbledore's office professor, look there, you need. . ."

He felt McGonagall hand on his arm.

"I will, Mr. Potter, you've done enough. Now sleep. Please." And with that, he succumbed to the drowsiness, and fell back fully into Ginny's chest.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Ginny slid herself from beneath Harry Potter, after laying one more chaste kiss on his brow, and slowly stood to face the others.

"Oh, Arthur, look at him! What'll we do!" Molly sobbed into her husband's chest.

"Now dear if anyone will pull through, it's Harry."

McGonagall stood as well, smoothing her robes with her hands, and looked to a now calmed Hermione.

"We all know what was there in the penseive; we saw it earlier when we were searching for him. We just didn't know he went through with it." She whispered. Hagrid finally broke his long silence.

"Poor 'Arry. Twas awful. He was so still when he walked in there, so calm when he faced 'em. And then Voldemort spoke, but I could'n hear cuz I wos yellin' at 'em to run. But he did'n hear me even, or look my way at all, an' then there wos dat 'orrible flash o green, an he just fell there, limp like. He wos so pale and still. That Malfoy broad said he wos dead, and they made me pick him up, an' all dose Death Eaters wos firin' curses at 'is body, but he wasn't movin' at all, an then. . ." The giant man broke into sobs again, blowing his nose loudly into a rather dirty, pink floral handkerchief.

"Oh, Hagrid!" Hermione wrapped his arm with hers in a hug. "He's here now, he'll be ok."

Ron shoved his hands in his pockets, "Bloody git went to die for us and didn't even say goodbye. When he wakes up I'm gunna knock his bloody head off!"

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked.

"You will do no such thing!" Mrs. Weasley shook her finger at her son, and strode forward to the bed.

Pulling a chair up next to where Ginny was now kneeling, she began pressing a new, purple soaked rag to his battered chest, handing Ginny one for the minor cuts and bruises on his arms.

"Go rest," She tittered, "The lot of you. We'll come get you if there's any change. You'll do him, nor anyone else any good if you're dead on your feet."

The group looked like they wanted to complain, but the Weasley's minus Ginny and Molly, and Hagrid, left the room for the dormitories, followed by Professor Flitwick, who smiled wanly at Molly as he passed.

"Minerva?"

"Yes, Molly?"

"He will make it through, won't he? I can't. . . I can't loose another boy." Tears fell down the woman's face for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Ginny too, felt tears roll down her face.

The older woman pressed her hands to the mother's shoulders, "Molly, there is no reason he shouldn't make it back to us, one hundred percent. He'll need us all. He will blame the whole thing on himself I'm sure."

"He already does," Ginny whispered, "Fred. . . He kept saying how Fred. . . it was all his fault, and how sorry he was."

"Oh dear," Molly dropped the rag and fell next to her daughter, sweeping her into an embrace, "We know better, and we love him. He's family, and we will stand by him, no matter what."

Molly smiled, and let out a small laugh, "You know, if Fred had heard him say that, he would have boxed Harry right round the ears then turned him into a budgie or something like that."

Ginny laughed too, and then Minerva, and for the next few minutes, the only sound in the Great Hall of the school, was laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money from this work of fanfiction

* * *

Harry woke alone to unfamiliar surroundings, and the sound of people quietly chatting away. It took him a minute to realize that he was in the hospital wing of the school, in a private room he suspected was off the main hall. He felt clean, and running a hand through his hair, noted that someone had washed and cut it. His chest was bound with thick white rags that were stained pink in a long lighting shape across his chest, and his legs were clad in blue striped pajama bottoms. Other than a dull ache beneath the bandages, and a sting over his right eye when he blinked, he felt quite good. He felt hungry.

There was a white button up shirt over the back of a chair in the corner a few feet away, so he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up slowly. Looking down he noticed his right foot turned in at an awkward angle, and his knee seemed bowed out.

_Huh._

He took a step, and almost stumbled, and then noticed a cane on the end table next to him, that held his glasses, and the wands.

_Just dandy. I can add a limp to my noticeable features._

He adjusted his glasses on his face, and grabbed the cane, when the door swung inward. Harry had his wand raised before McGonagall had even opened the door all the way. Seeing Harry with a menacing look on his face, and a wand in his hand made the woman step back, and her hand fly to her heart. He lowered his wand when he realized who it was.

"Sorry, Professor. Old habits." He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. He looked over the woman's shoulder to see Madam Pomfrey following, eyes wide as saucers, with a white ceramic bowl filled with bandages and another vial of purple liquid. "Well, come on in." He jerked his head back to the wall, and with the cane, made his way back to the bed to sit down.

The two women edged in slowly, their eyes searching him for more signs of damage, he supposed. Either that or they were waiting for him to attack them.

"Harry, I need to check on your chest and leg please, if you don't mind." Madam Pomfrey wasn't used to asking her patients before treating them, but considering who this was, she figured it was a good idea, and waited till he nodded to her before entering.

"Mr. Potter. . ." McGonagall began.

"Please, just Harry, Professor."

"Right then, Harry, I wanted you to know that there are a lot of people who would like to see you very much, but that you are more than welcome to stay here until you are ready to see them. Hermione and Ron did quite a job of telling us what happened to you, and Hagrid filled in the rest, so unless you feel the need to tell us anything, we feel that there is no need for you to recount that dreadful tale." Harry grunted, dreadful wasn't quite the word he would use. "Minister Shacklebolt would like a word whenever you're well enough, and the Weasley's would like me to inform you that they would like you to come to the Burrow to recuperate."

Harry scowled at this, but nodded. He knew he needed a way out of this, and Mrs. Weasley would push him to come with them before he was ready. He _wanted _them. He wanted _Ginny, _but after all he had done, was he worthy of her. As much as they all said that nothing was his fault, and as much as he knew in his head that Voldemort was to blame, he couldn't help thinking that if he'd just been _faster._

Madam Pomfrey began unwinding the bandages on his chest, snapping him out of his revere, as McGonagall began talking again.

"About your condition," At this she became quiet, and took a breath before she continued, "Harry, your leg, it will probably be like this, for forever. Madame Pomfrey did the best she could, but the bones were shattered, and warped by some curse. Hagrid informed us that while you were. . . um. . . dead, that you took some severe damage, and your leg seems to be the worst of it, other than your chest."

Harry nodded. _Not fixable. Well, Mad Eye only had one leg, he was an Auror._

Madam Pomfrey picked up from here, "The wound on your chest was quite deep Harry, and we almost had to use those _stitches_ to knit the skin back together, but as you can see, it's mostly healed, though the scar is, well, it's there."

Harry looked down to his unbound chest, and the hand not gripping his new cane came up to trace it. It ran from the outside of his left clavicle, down to just underneath his right pectoral muscle, striking sharply upwards, and then back down again just over where his heart was., It was a silvery colour with the texture of rope, and a full centimetre wide at its widest point.

"I'm not to worried about that. It's my leg that will give me trouble, if anything. How long was I out?" Madam Pomfrey backed away as Harry bent down to roll up his pants leg; Professor McGonagall looked sharply away.

"Three days."

He had no reaction for what he saw. His knee truly did bow out, making his right leg now a bit shorter than the left one, and the skin of the beneath it seemed to have the texture of tree bark. The only breaks in the pattern were three, spiraling silver scars that ran from the outside edge of the mangled knee, to his ankle. He stood, using the cane, and shook his pants leg back down, and walked over to the mirror above the sink in the corner of the room. He stared at himself in the mirror, noting the two older women looking in it from behind him as well. His face was mostly the same, save the growth of the old familiar scar on his forehead, and a thin silver slash mark against his left cheekbone. However, now, where the lightning bolt met his hairline, a streak of his hair was silver. At least he looked less gaunt then he did in the prefects bathroom.

He no longer looked 17, he looked 27, and in the reflections of Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, he saw pity. He hated it, though he spun around, and smiled at them.

"Thank you, for everything. I actually feel quite well Professor, Madam, and my leg isn't as bad as I thought it would be." He kept his voice quiet, so as not to betray the anger he felt. He was angry at the pity. He was angry at the fact that no one seemed to be angry at him. He was angry that he was angry. He took a deep breath, and stepped forward with the cane. "Professor, I will see the Minister now, if that is quite all right, and I would like a pair of trousers please, and an undershirt if one could be found for me."

"Of course, Harry. Just give us a minute and we'll send one to you." The looks of pity never faded from their faces as they turned to leave the room.

McGonagall turned, "And Harry, I know you probably don't want to hear it, but Thank You."

The door closed behind her.

Harry made his way over to the chair holding the white, button up shirt, and as he looked down, a serviceable pair of blue jeans, with wide legs, and a black, v-neck shirt appeared. He pulled the shirt over his head, noting that a point of his scar was barely visible over the edge. He had a bit of trouble with the pants, as his foot seemed to catch in all the wrong places, but eventually, he was fully dressed, save shoes. He wondered how he would ever get a decent pair boots to fit him.

There was a knock at the door. Someone had obviously been told of his jumpy wand arm.

"Come in." The door opened, "Hello, Minister Shacklebolt."

"Harry, please, Kingsley is fine. You've known me long enough." Harry was getting quite tired of these people with their soft voices. It was as if they all thought he would bolt at the sound of a loud noise.

"Fine then Kingsley, the reason for your visit? I have people who I need to see you know." He tried to keep it light, but he knew his voice was too gruff, and he knew his smile was unconvincing.

"Harry, I wanted you to know that you've done more than enough," Harry scowled at this, "But I also know that you don't do well with rest, and I heard about your leg. I wanted you to know, that when you're ready for it, and if you still want it, the Auror position is yours." At this Harry truly smiled for the first time since he woke, and looked up at the man, "It's two years of training, but with how understaffed we are, and with the mess at the Ministry, I'm sure most of yours will be in field. We are going to build a brace for your leg, so you can leave your cane behind on missions, and as for the start date, that's up for you to decide."

Harry grinned like a Cheshire cat, "Now, Kingsley. I start now."

The Minister sighed, as he looked at the expression on the young man's face. "Are you sure you don't need. . ."

"Minister Shacklebolt, there are people out there," He pointed towards the door with his cane, "who would not hesitate to kill me, to kill you, and to kill all those I hold dear. There are people out there who did kill those I hold dear. There are people, Death Eaters, who need a long stint in Azkaban, and if you think that I will sit here, wasting away, while they run around having the time of their lives killing muggles and cursing people, then you are quite mistaken."

Harry's face was one of complete seriousness, as he looked Shacklebolt dead in the eye. He knew what Shacklebolt was doing, what everyone was doing. Feeling pity for him. He wasn't going to let it happen. Harry stood, drawing himself up to his full, six foot height.

"I think you need some time Harry, not for yourself, necessarily, though I think you need that too, but for others. The Weasley's need you, Hermione needs you, and your godson needs you. Go to the funerals, spend time with them. When that is over, we will begin."

Harry softened, and sagged a bit. He knew the man was right. Ginny would never forgive him if he left right away again. He was going to have trouble explaining why he was leaving again at all, but he _needed_ this. He was good at it. He sighed.

"Minister, the Weasley's are as good as family to me sir. So here is what I will do, I will do as you say. Send me an owl at the beginning of June. I will be available, after that."

Kingsley smiled and stuck out his hand, and Harry shook it.

"Spot on Harry, until then."

"Hold on Minister, I'll follow you out."

The two left the room to enter into the main wing of the infirmary, where the Weasley's and Hermione seemed to be having quiet conversations around a table against the wall. A few nurses bustled around cleaning things, but it seemed he was the last patient to leave as no other beds were occupied. Hermione was the first to look up, and her eyes immediately noticed his gait, and then lit upon the black cane he leaned against. Once again, there was pity.

"Oh Harry!" She ran forward only to be stopped short by a barking command in a voice that was almost unrecognizable. Everyone's eyes snapped towards him.

"OH BUGGER OFF WOULD YOU!" Immediately he felt guilty, but it all had been too much. Tears sprang into Hermione's eyes, and Harry stepped towards her, carefully hugging her to him. He sighed and pushed his face down into her hair and with a much gentler tone spoke to her. "I'm sorry 'Mione." he looked up, "It's just, I don't want pity, you lot. I'm all right, and everything's fine."

The whole group collectively sighed, and if they hadn't looked so worried, it would have been funny. He broke away from the hug, and Hermione smiled at him, as did the rest of them, though George's looked pained.

"Anyways, it won't affect anything. I've just been offered a position as an Auror."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley smiled softly, although no one at the table looked surprised. They must have known about it already.

"Congratulations Harry." Ginny spoke softly, but there was no pity there, only sadness, and love.

"Aren't you going to come home first Harry, dear?" Harry walked to Mrs. Weasley and hugged her.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. I need my family around me now." At this Mrs. Weasley's smile returned, and she turned towards her brood.

"C'mon then you lot," She hugged George's shoulders, "Let's get on home then."

"I will meet you all there, there is something I need to do first. Won't take long. Hermione, Ron, come with me?"

"Of course, Harry."

"Ginny, you too if you want." At this, the young girl looked up, slightly stunned, and smiled and walked up to him, grabbing his free hand.

"We'll wait for you, Harry, in the Great Hall. Come get us when you're done. We're all going home together." Molly's lip trembled at this, and he knew she was thinking about the one person who wouldn't be coming with. Fleur lay her head on Bill's shoulder as more tears ran down his face.

"I promise, we won't be long." He smiled at them gently as Ron got up to follow them, and with that, the left the Hospital Wing.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The four of them walked together, side by side, hand in hand, slowly across the lawn of Hogwarts Castle to the great white tomb. Ginny's arm through Harry's, and her opposite hand held Hermione's as she in turn clung to Ron. It was as if the four of them were reluctant to let each other go, just in case.

"Harry," Hermione started, "Are you really all right?"

He looked into the distance at this, and the stoic expression returned to his face. "Hermione, I don't really know what "all right" is at the moment. But I know that you all are here, and that's enough for now." Ginny leaned against him again, and planted a kiss to the sleeve of his shirt.

They reached the marble obelisk a moment later and looked down to the ruined top of it as Harry spoke again, and kneeled to the ground, with great difficulty.

"Thank you sir, for everything, especially convincing me to come back. People need me here, I know. I won't waste it." With a wave of his own wand, and no words, the heavy stone pieced itself back together, and lifted up just enough so that he could slip the Elder Wand back into the Professor's blackened hand.

The stone topper fell with another wave, and with another, a golden mist settled around the tomb, making it all one solid stone, once again.

They stood in silence another minute, heads bowed, and then Harry turned, leading them back to the castle.

Harry felt as though a granite block had be lifted from his shoulders as they walked. A new chapter was beginning for him. He had a family, a home to go to, and a job to do. He had a _future, _one he thought he would never have.

"Thanks for letting me come, Harry." Ginny looked up at him, and he planted a kiss to her forehead.

"When did you learn so much wordless magic, Harry?" Hermione asked, and Harry just shrugged.

The truth was, he didn't know when. It just came to him, as naturally as breathing.

"Thanks mate, for everything, really. Harry, I'm glad you're with us."

It was the first time Ron had actually spoken to him since the battle, and Harry looked at him, and noticed how tired he looked, and how sad. Again, Harry nodded.

"I'm glad I'm here too, mate. Let's go home."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money from this work of fanfiction.

* * *

What Harry hadn't expected, was for using the Floo to be painful. When he appeared in the chimney place of the Burrow his cane flew through the living room. George and Mr. Weasley had to catch him, and drag him out, before Ginny appeared right on top of him.

"Sorry, Harry. S'pose we shoulda thought of that, eh, Dad?" Mr. Weasley and Harry laughed, and George actually smiled at Harry as he grasped him by the armpit and helped haul him to the couch. "Mum's already at it in the kitchen Harry, if you're up to it."

As Harry looked around, he noticed an inordinate amount of dust and debris throughout the home. Bill, Percy, Fleur, and Charlie had come back early to begin magically cleaning. Harry had learned that sometime while they were in the Forest of Dean, the family had to evacuate the Burrow to the hated Aunt Muriel's house. _If I just had been faster, none of this would have happened_. His reverie at the suffering he had caused was suddenly broken.

"C'mon son, into the kitchen with you. You've got to be starved." Mr. Weasley handed Harry the cane, and pulled him towards the kitchen, where Molly bustled about beginning to make all sorts of breakfast foods.

"Figured this we be good for you, Harry dear, even though it's afternoon." She had tear tracks down her face, just like Ron and Hermione, who were sitting at the kitchen table.

Ginny appeared behind him, and placing a hand at the small of his back, moved him forward towards a chair, but instead, he walked around it, and with a smile, grabbed a flowered yellow apron off the hook on the wall.

"I'll get the eggs, sausage, and bacon, if it's all right with you Mrs. Weasley, if you'll get the tea and toast." She looked like she wanted to fight him on it, but the smile that graced his face convinced her otherwise, and she returned it fully.

"Of course, Harry dear, and thank you." another look crossed her face, "and please, Harry, call me Molly, you too, Hermione dear."

Harry nodded, and hooking his cane over the back of one of the dining room chairs set to work at the stove. He cracked about a dozen eggs, all with one hand, using the other on the counter top to balance him, and then began flipping bacon and sausages over in a second and third pan.

"My, Harry, you really can cook!" The redheaded woman patted her on the cheek, and he smiled at her.

"You know Mum, Harry's cooking is actually better than Hermione's. He did most of it while we were camping." Hermione smacked Ron lightly in the arm at this, and there were a few chuckles as Ginny jumped up on the counter nearest Harry.

He was enjoying himself, really. It felt _normal_, for the first time, in a long time. Whenever he would get near the pretty red head, she would plant a kiss on the scar on his cheek. Everyone fell to giggles again, when to avoid popping bacon grease, Harry nearly fell over with a very unmanly squeak, forgetting his injury. Ginny and Fleur had to right him again. He even laughed at himself. The entire family was smiling, if just for a moment, and everyone looked expectantly towards George.

"Have that scar go down a little farther, Harry, and we'll basically have Mad-Eye cooking us breakfast."

Laughter once again filled the house, and it was in that moment the entire family knew that they would be ok.

When the food had finished cooking, Molly insisted that Harry sit down, tutting that there was no way he was carrying hot food with that leg, and they all tucked in.

As the sun set, couples of people simply held each other, occasionally moving to talk to others not close to them in quiet tones. Harry however, was delegated to a rather large armchair in the corner, so he could have veiw of the room without moving, and Ginny never left her perch on the armrest.

"Fred's. . . Fred's funeral will be tomorrow, and we all need to rest." Arthur spoke quietly. "Harry, you can stay in Ginny's room if you prefer, and Hermione can bunk with Ron. I think we all can agree that there are special circumstances here."

Ron opened and closed his mouth, glaring pointedly at Harry, but thought better of saying anything. Hermione chucked a finger under his chin, and a smile graced Ron's face again as she led him up the stairs, with a quiet, "Night all."

George went next, slowly, announcing that he would be staying in Percy's old room for the night. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley went with him.

Percy and Charlie left through the fireplace to go home, followed by a very exhausted looking Bill and Fleur, leaving no one but Ginny and Harry in the dark living room.

Harry looked up, and the light from the fireplace made Ginny's hair look like it was a living thing. She was so beautiful, so kind, so forgiving. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, making her look down at him, with a soft smile on her face.

"How long do you think it'll take you to get up the stairs with that thing?"

He laughed, "By the time I get up there, we'll have to start back down again for breakfast."

"Best get started then." He stood more easily than before, and surprisingly, going up the steps was not to hard. She led him by the hand into her bedroom, and closed the door. She sat on the large bed, patting the spot next to her. He was so _aware_ of her.

"Ginny, I know we haven't had much time to talk, but. . ."

Her lips press against his, and her fingers tangled wantonly in his hair. As much as he wished to continue, he gently pushed her back.

"Your father's trusting us, Gin. Let's not ruin that." She sighed, but curled into him, her long hair tickling his arm. "Gin, I'm sorry I had to leave you."

"I know, Harry, just don't do it again."

"I'm going to be an Auror, Gin. I'm going to have to go places."

"I don't mean physically, Harry. I mean spiritually."

It was his turn to sigh, "Then in that way, I never really did leave."

She kissed his lips again, and then stood.

"I'm going to put my pajamas on in the bathroom. I'll be back in a flash."

She closed the door behind her once again, and he noticed there was a pile of clothes folded at the foot of her bed for him. Searching through, he found a pair of wide leg pajama pants, and another v-neck shirt. He knew his shirt he could change quickly, so he began trying to pull on the pajama bottoms. He was still experiencing difficulties when the door swung back open.

"Merlin, Gin, I'm sorry I just am having some. . ."

She walked up to him, and pushed him gently on the bed, kneeling before him. He was acutely aware that he was only in his boxers. Looking at his leg, she touched it softly, and a tingle of energy shot up his spine.

"Does it hurt?"

"It did, but not anymore, Gin."

She held out his pants and he slipped his feet through and she kissed his injured, and scarred leg, before helping him pull them up, as he balanced with a hand on her shoulder. He was about to pull the shirt on, when her heard her softly say, "Leave it off."

They laid down in bed, and he pulled the blankets over them as she settled into the crook of his arm. His hands roamed her curves over her clothes, occasionally touching her soft skin of her hip, where her shirt had ridden up. He massaged the small of her back, and lay a kiss on her forehead.

This was what contentment was, and peace.

She lightly fingered the ropey scar that spread across his chest, and yawned.

"You know, it's a rather pretty colour, your scar." She said sleepily, and then they both fell into sleep.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Across the hall, an older couple of people, no less in love, listened to a bathroom door close.

"Do you think we spoke to soon, Arthur? That's our daughter, and Harry's no boy now is he?"

"Have patience Molly, just listen. He stopped her before. He's never been anything but a gentleman."

_Merlin, Gin, I'm sorry I'm just having some trouble. . . _

Arthur felt his wife stiffen against him.

"How bad is it Molly? His leg, I mean? I saw his chest and that was bad enough but. . ."

"Oh Arthur! I don't know how he even puts weight on it. It looks like a tree root. I'm going to have to fix his shoes for him tomorrow. You noticed he wasn't wearing any? He can't even get his foot in his boots."

Arthur sighed.

"Kingsley said that they have the Auror Department working on a brace for it so he won't need the cane all the time. I'm worried he'll be too slow. He'll get hit with something and. . ."

_Does it hurt?_

_It did, but not anymore, Gin._

"At least there's that. Arthur, I think she really loves him."

"I know Molly, but to be honest I'm scared for our girl. Not many people retire from the Auror department. Look at the last time he left, over the summer, Ginny nearly fell apart. What if he goes on a mission, and doesn't come back."

"I don't think that'll happen dear. Harry is smart, careful, and very good at what he does. I think as long as Ginny's here, he'll find his way back to her, no matter what. If something were to happen to Ginny, heaven forbid, that's where there would be problems. I think Harry would lose himself. Nothing to come back for then."

_Leave it off._

Molly hissed, "Leave _what_ off?!"

Arthur laughed, "His shirt, Mollywobbles. We heard her help him get his trousers on."

"Hmph."

"Poor lad, he looks like he's thirty. Harry never did get much of a childhood did he? And now he's got that cane, and all those scars, I just. . . I think about what we were like at his age. Having fun, just being kids, and he never got any of that."

"He never had parents either, Arthur. Not really. We tried, but by the time we got to him, he already was so. . . adjusted to everything. Even when he was only twelve, and when they crashed that car. He already knew how to take responsibility for things. He had a _man's_ sense of duty. I wish it were different for him, but all we can do now, is offer support, and help him when he lets us."

_You know it's a rather pretty colour, your scar._

"Colour, Molly?"

"They're all this silvery colour. The bigger ones, across his arms, and of course the one on his chest, they look like rope. I hope they fade, but they probably won't." She sighed.

"Molly, we will do all we can, just like we did with all our boys. You know, they were all better for knowing him, even Fred. For all intents and purposes, he's their brother. I have a feeling, one day, it will be all legal."

With that, his wife smiled into his chest, and they too drifted off into sleep.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

When Harry woke the next morning, he thought he was dreaming, because curled against his stomach, was a petite redhead. A crooked smile played against his face and he leaned forward, nuzzling the space behind her ear, before he whispered into it, "Morning, love."

"Mmmm." She rolled over and kissed him, wrapping her pale arms around her neck, "That it is!"

Ginny jumped out of bed, and stretched, and Harry watched as the morning sun played across her shoulders. He reached for his glasses and wand on the night table. Ginny brought him his cane and shirt, running her fingers once more across his scar before he pulled it on. He shuddered at the touch and looked at her.

"You are beautiful, you know that, Gin."

"So are you Mr. Potter," He laughed at that, "C'mon, let's get your pants on. If we don't make it down stairs soon all the muffins will be gone." She smiled sadly, "and we have a lot to do today."

He pulled himself upright, and kissed her forehead, smoothing her Titian hair with his hand. He offered her a small smile, and once dressed, followed her down the stairs to a house filled with movement and bustle.

"Oh good Harry dear, you're up! Come get breakfast, and then we have to head out to the orchard. I fixed your shoe for you by the way. It should go on all right now"

'You'll see.' Ginny mouthed to him, as he offered her a questioning look.

They all ate their fill, acknowledging when Bill and Fleur, Percy, and Charlie arrived. Everyone seemed to be smiling sadly, but no one cried. More people arrived, and more "Hello's" were said, but there were no real conversations. By noon the house was completely filled. People were sitting and standing in every available nook and cranny. Harry knew most of them, and they all filed by the Weasley's, and even Harry and Hermione too, offering condolences, and love.

"It's time." Arthur said, and with that they all walked from the back door, down to the orchard.

Ginny had left Harry, instead walking with George's hand in hers, Ron on the other side of him. So Hermione now had her arm through Harry's unoccupied one. They traversed the rough terrain in silence until they stopped at the edge of the orchard of fruit trees. On a table, covered with a white table cloth, lay a closed white coffin.

Each of the Weasleys in turn walked up to it, laying there hand on top, and murmuring for a bit. Mrs. Weasley broke down into sobs, and Arthur had to gently lead her away. Ron cried silently at the coffin, tears streaming down his face, and his beautiful Ginny lay her head down for a second there, in a sort of hug. George just stood there. Not a tear, not a word, but he was there the longest.

At last he stepped back, and nodded, and the rest of his brothers came forward to lower the coffin into the ground, and with a wave of their wands, covered it in dirt, save a small shallow hole in the centre.

Once more, George stepped forward, and from his pocket pulled a large seed. Kneeling, he planted it there in the centre of the grave, and covered it in dirt. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and with a wave of their wands, watered it. Each of their children from youngest, to oldest, waved their wands their too, and murmured a spell, and with each one, a tree began to grow more and more. Before George stepped forth, Mr. Weasley came up to Harry and Hermione.

"Go on, he would have wanted you too."

For the first time since he had come to the Burrow, tears trickled down his cheeks. They waved their wands in tandem, and the tree grew a little more, and buds appeared on many branches.

Then lastly George, with a swish of his wrist, caused flowers to bloom, a brilliant white against the green of the leaves, and it was over.

Walking back, George looked at Harry, and explained in a quiet way, "The tree will always bloom this time of year, and after that, it'll get fruit. Life from death, ya know?"

Harry just nodded, and smiled.

The wake that followed was the complete opposite of the poignant funeral that was held earlier in the day. Everyone was quite drunk, while someone, one of Molly's brother's Harry thought played an upbeat tune on the fiddle. George was dancing on the kitchen table, and in front of the fireplace Ron was telling the story of why he hated spider so much, _while laughing_ of all things. Molly and Arthur were laughing with Hagrid, by the front door, looking quite flush, While Lee Jordon shot off fireworks around the outside of the property that spelled crude words in the sky. Harry was once again delegated to the chair in the corner of the living room, with a glass of firewhisky in his one hand, and Ginny in his lap.

Watching this display gave filled Harry to the brim with something that days ago he thought he would never feel again. Happiness and love. Muggle funerals had nothing on this.

He took another sip, from his third glass of whisky. He felt slightly buzzed, and in his current state, was quite content to sit back, and watch the room. The music came to a halt however, and the guests began to exit through the fireplace, nodding at Harry as they went by.

By one in the morning George had passed out on the kitchen table, and Hermione and Ron had snuck off to their. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had excused themselves around the same time. Bill and Percy were talking quietly by the back door, and Fleur had fallen asleep on the couch. Ginny snoozed lightly against his shoulder. He pressed his nose into his favorite spot behind her ear, and nuzzled.

"Hey, let's get to bed shall we?"

With a sleepy grin, she led him gently up the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

The next week and a half passed in a blur of funeral, visitors, and for Harry, paperwork. Since his seventeenth birthday, Harry never got his affairs in order. The paperwork for his bank vaults, and the multiple properties he owned had never been filed, and Gringotts was less than happy with the damage that had been done, and Shacklebolt sent letters asking Harry's opinion on various Death Eaters.

Just two days after Remus and Tonk's funerals, Harry received an owl requesting his presence at a meeting in the bank the next day for "reparations and settling of overdue wills". Bill was kind enough to accompany him, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny said that they wouldn't go without him. So for the first time in over a year, Harry pulled on a set of robes, ready for his return to the wizarding world and the group prepared to leave.

"You will be able to apparate, won't you Harry?" Hermione had been fretting over him since he had woken up in the infirmary at Hogwarts. Between her and Molly, it was like having two mums.

"Don't see why not. I'm not in pain, its just inconvenient." but as Ginny stepped forward to take his arm, he looked at Bill, "Perhaps you should go with Bill though, Ginny, just in case."

She scowled at him for a moment, but didn't say anything.

"You know the press will be there, Harry. They'll want you to say something."

Harry sighed. "I'll deal with that when we get there, Bill."

"Harry, you could just use the cloak you know."

"What Ron? And leave you and Hermione to the media wolves? Not a chance." He shook his cane and smiled, "It's not like I can run from them right now anyhow."

Ginny laughed, "The great Harry Potter, once again saving us! This time he takes on camera flash and quick quotes quills."

Ron giggled, and Hermione hid a smile behind her hand. "Let's just get this over with."

Bill and Ginny followed by Hermione and Ron, apparated away from the Burrow, and with a sigh and a crack, Harry followed.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The Leaky Cauldron was filled to the brim with people. It seemed that Diagon Alley was once again opened for business. The sheer number of people made Harry nervous. Everyone around them was chatting animatedly, and Ginny and Bill were able to slip through the door at the edge without much ado. However, the mass of people moved, leaving Ron, Hermione and Harry trapped suddenly in the middle of the room near the bar. Old Tom looked up from drawing a beer and gasped, and the noisy bar once again dropped to silence.

Harry had a flashback of being 11, except this time, there was no Hagrid.

"Mister Potter! Here for a brew? On the house for you, mate."

"No thanks, Tom. I'm here on business today." Harry noticed that people were staring at him more than the others. He would have been used to it, except the eyes on his cane made him feel self conscious. He dropped his head down, and realized that his hair had gotten so long that it could be tied behind him.

"Right'o Mister Potter. Good luck to you, mate."

As if those words broke some spell people began to walk forward in an orderly fashion to shake his hand, and murmur words of thanks and praise. He simply nodded at each one with a dignified look upon his face, and when they had all filed through, looked down to his shoes once again.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money from this work of fanfiction.

* * *

"I want you all to know, that what I did was just a small part of what won the war. I was able to do it because of the people I came in with, among others. Those hands you should be shaking as well. They gave just as much, if not more than me. Give thanks to all the veterans you know and see, emulate them in their bravery and convictions, and remember the fallen."

At this, camera flashes blinded the group of five, as the door to the Alley swung closed. Reporters began shouting, and bar patrons scurried to the walls to avoid the onslaught of camera fire. They were so loud. He could feel his pulse in his temples and jaw. The roar of media men shouting his name became so much he had to do something about it.

"ENOUGH!" he roared. He stopped to look around; jaw clenched tight, and looked at the flash of red that had been moving towards him.

Ginny had noticed chest begin to heave as he had looked at his shoes, and had moved forward to offer her support. She wanted to comfort him, but when his head swiftly snapped to hers, she saw a person she didn't know. The emerald green of his eyes were now a dark forest, and the way his jaw was set, and his hair fell, almost to his shoulders reminded her of Sirius. His scars gleamed silver in the dim bar lighting. She took a step back. Her heart told her that this was the man she loved, but her head screamed DANGER.

Harry saw the fear there in Ginny's gaze, and he felt his heart rate plummet. He shook his head, smiled at her as gently as he could, and looked to the masses.

"I have time for five questions. Please wait until I call upon you to ask them. After this, my friends and I would like some privacy as we go about our day. Thank you." He picked out a man in a green cap. "You there, one question."

"Mr. Potter, in the statement released by the Ministry, it was said that you were on a mission given to you by one Albus Dumbledore to destroy dark artifacts that were preventing Voldemort from dying. Can you expand on that"

Harry ground his teeth before replying, "Professor Dumbledore knew that with my prior experience with Voldemort, and the help of my friends, that this mission was one that was necessary for us to undertake. Make no mistake that it was not I alone that was entrusted with the destruction of these artifacts; the help of my friends was invaluable. And no, I will not tell you what these items were. Next question please."

A witch in a simple brown skirt suit stepped forward. "Mister Potter, The Daily Prophet had released the fact that you were seriously injured in the attack on Hogwarts castle. Please explain."

"I was indeed injured in the attack, but when I came to in the infirmary at Hogwarts, I was mostly healed. I was told I had multiple abrasions, including a rather large one across my chest, and my leg was smashed in the attack. The ministry is helping me fit a brace for it so I will soon be able to move about unimpeded. Your question please sir."

"What is next for you Mister Potter?"

"I will be joining the Auror Department for the Ministry at the end of the month. It is our hope to round up all uncaptured Death Eaters, and prevent further dark wizards from coming to power. You ple. . ."

"Mr. Potter, Rita Skeeter here." Somehow, the woman had made her way to the middle of the crowd, her quill dashing madly across a floating notebook. Ginny watched as Harry's eyes once again went dark, and his hand gripped the cane until his knuckles turned white. "How do you feel about your former love, Hermione Granger's new fling with your friend Ronald Weasley? Is the young Miss Weasley a rebound for your broken heart?"

Harry continued to glare at the woman. Hermione's hand slipped from Ron's and she very slowly pulled a jam jar out of her purse and proceeded to poke holes in the top of it with a very large hat pin. Mrs. Skeeter paled, and her quill slowed to a halt. A wicked grin spread across Harry's face, making him look even more sinister than before.

"Ah, Mrs. Skeeter, delightful to see you again. I will let you know that Hermione and I have never had any relationship that extended further than that of a brother and sister. As for your accusations that Ginny Weasley is nothing more than a rebound, you are quite wrong. Ginny has been my strength not only for these past few weeks, but also throughout the last year. Thinking of her, and her family, drove me to do things that I thought was impossible. I can say with absolute certainty, that without her, I would not be standing here today."

While Harry's face had softened during his speech, his posture had not, and he stared at the croud with a look that said _be careful what you ask_. He glanced at Ginny, and smiled once again, and reached for her. As her hand slipped into his, he felt the muscles that had tensed in his body relax. He felt human again.

"Next question please. This is the last one."

A young man in a grey robe stepped forward, "How do you feel about those who gave their lives for you in the fight? What would you say to them today, if you could?"

Hermione gasped, and Ron and Bill both glared daggers at the man. Ginny felt Harry tense again, and she shut her eyes, waiting for some sort of fallout.

"I think it would be quite egotistical to say they died for _me_. Make no mistake they died for a cause I greatly believed in. They died in a battle in which I was a key player, but died _for me?_ Absolutely not. Sir, those people, died for you. They died for all of you. They died so your children didn't. They died so that laughter could ring out in homes and schools. They died so you could walk out of the house, in muggle clothes, or watch a television if you so choose. They died so they didn't become slaves to an elitist system brought to them by a murdering mad man. They died so you could marry who you damn well pleased and they died so that you could ask stupid god damned questions here today. They did not die for ME."

The man paled, and many of the reporters had stopped writing.

"And if they were here today, I would say thank you, for their bravery, and that the world was sorrier for the loss of them. I think that's enough questions today. I ask that you leave me in peace."

Quills began furious work again, and a few more flashes rang out from cameras before Harry, letting go of Ginny's hand rather abruptly strode forward. His friends followed.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Harry moved through Diagon Alley like a shark, parting the fish as he swam past. The look on his face sent people stepping out of his way without a word. Suddenly he turned into the now defunct Knockturn Alley, and just kept going.

_Get away, get away, just get away._

It played in his head like a broken record. It was so loud he didn't even hear his friends calling his name behind him. Deep at the end of the road, against the back of Borgin and Burkes, he and his cane clattered to the ground, and he sank his head into his hands. He leaned against a dumpster as tears rolled down his cheeks, and then he roared, taking off his glasses, and shattering them against the far wall.

The group following had stopped at the corner of the shop, watching as Harry sank to the ground. What they saw was desperation, grief, sadness. It was fury, and despair. Hermione stepped towards him, but Ginny put her hand to her shoulder, and both of them jumped at the sound of the glass shattering against the brick.

Slowly the youngest Weasley stepped forward, face impassive.

"Ginny. . ." Bill began, but thought better of it.

She kept going until she kneeled before him, ignoring the splayed out, twisted leg, and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. Slowly and methodically, she smoothed the long black hair from his face, and dried the trails left by tears. She whispered into his ear things the others couldn't hear, and held him to her. The group stood there, as she did this, almost ten minutes, until suddenly, the unblinking green eyes closed, then opened again. He shook his head, like a dog ridding itself of water, and wrapped his arms around Ginny. She sank into him, as he whispered back, and kissed her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ears as well. He looked to Bill, and nodded, then to Ron and Hermione.

Hermione ran towards him, and threw herself at him in an enormous hug. "I think you answered brilliantly, Harry. I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah mate, well done. The bloody reporter was out of line." Ron still looked angry.

Harry blushed, and looked around once more. "I'm sorry for that, guys. Mind lending me a hand here?"

Ginny and Hermione retreated and Bill and Ron stepped forward to place a hand to each of his arms and haul him to his feet. Ginny hugged him again, he cheek resting against his chest as he sighed and lay his head in her hair. "Truly, I'm sorry. You lot shouldn't have had to see that."

Bill's face softened, "Look here. We are your family, Harry. We are the people you are supposed to lean on. Out there," he gestured back to the main drag, "they want you to be a hero. You _are_ a hero. To us, you are much more, you are our brother. Never apologize, or be afraid to show emotion around us. Never be afraid to lean on us. We've all leaned on you before. Being family means being each other's strength; being there at the worst of times, and the best."

Harry looked at the man with a new found respect, and then pulled the watch his_ family_ had given him out of his pocket.

"We're going to be late for this meeting if we don't leave now, you know." His smile reached his eyes again, and Ginny grabbed his hand.

"Then let's not keep the goblins waiting. They hate waiting."

And with that, the quintet left the dirty alley behind.


End file.
